Keeping Quiet
by SyberiaWinx
Summary: After the events of Eternal Diva, Professor Layton takes an injured and unconscious Descole back to his house to recover. Unfortunately, things don't go as expected...


**Keeping Quiet**

**Disclaimer: **We don't own the rights to the Professor Layton series. Kind of a shame, huh? I mean, then this would be canon, and I'd have my hands full trying to make sure Gatita didn't have the guys' shirts being torn off in every scene.

**Author's Note:** This was co-written by me(SyberiaWinx, writer of the Disclaimer and Author's Note) and Gatita101. I've never written anything M-rated like this before, so I hope everyone likes it. Please remember to review!

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Sitting in his room, which was illuminated only by the moonlight pouring in through the windows, he wondered how he had ended up in this predicament.

It had been just another typical day, as far as one Professor Hershel Layton was concerned. He and his young "apprentice" Luke had been invited to the opera by a former student of his, only to be caught up in some bizarre game for Eternal Life. With his puzzle-solving skills, the good professor had easily managed to reach the end of the game, only to find that Jean Descole was once again behind the whole scheme. Just like during their last encounter, he was after some ancient ruins for an unknown reason, and after failing to find them, he had gone on a rampage with another of his large mechanical contraptions.

Now, Professor Layton did not know specifically what this man was after or how they were connected, but he could not just stand by while he caused such destruction and endangered the lives of innocent people. After Luke was nearly killed, the professor and Descole had fought on top of the giant robot-Descole with a sword and him with a pipe.

They had been pretty evenly-matched, until the professor had interrupted the fight to show Descole something he had missed. He caused the ruins to appear, only to be attacked by an enraged Descole, who wanted them for himself. Layton had barely had time to defend himself from the sudden, violent strikes, and the controls to the machine had ended up getting damaged. As the robot shook and went out of control, Descole had fallen over the edge and vanished.

After he was safely on the ground again, the professor had gone looking for his so-called "rival" all over the island they had wound up stranded on, not able to accept that he could have died so easily. Still, Layton was quite surprised when he had found the man lying unconscious near some wreckage from his own machine, seemingly-unharmed, aside from a few bruises and scrapes.

Without really thinking his actions through, Layton had told Luke to go back to the mainland with Emmy and the others, arranging for separate transportation to be sent for him. As a gentleman, he knew he had to help Descole, despite all the trouble the man had caused him and the danger he had put so many people in. What he couldn't quite understand, however, was why he felt the need to help him without anyone else knowing about it. After all, this would certainly be simpler with help, and it would probably be proper to hand him over to the authorities, so he could not hurt or manipulate anyone else.

But Layton couldn't bring himself to consider such options, and so, with little more than a sigh at his dilemma, he had found himself in his current situation, which he was not without concerns about.

With all the recent chaos, Professor Layton had forgotten that Luke was staying with him for the weekend, which meant he had to do his best to keep their guest a secret. He knew that would not be easy, since eventually, the man was going to wake up. But he had no way to explain Descole's presence to Luke. He couldn't even explain it to _himself_.

Thankfully, Layton had managed to get home first, though he honestly had no idea how, and get the unconscious Descole situated in his bedroom. When Luke was dropped off, he hurried the boy into bed, claiming that they both needed to sleep after the day they'd had. Then, he had quickly gone back to his own room.

Descole was still lying on his bed, fast asleep. The professor had taken it upon himself to remove the man's shoes, hat, and boa-the latter two currently sitting on top of his neatly-folded cloak on the nightstand,-but he had been unable to bring himself to even touch the mask that hid his rival's face from view. If he at least saw him without it, maybe he could figure out who exactly he was and how they knew one another, but something still made him hesitant to take it off.

Layton let out another sigh, taking a seat at the man's bedside. Well, maybe he could try and talk to him once he woke up and see if he could figure it out that way.

Watching Descole sleep so peacefully, the professor couldn't get over how different he seemed. He was used to Descole smirking and bragging, while flourishing his cloak. Well, either that or flying into a rage and causing massive amounts of destruction.

Layton once again wondered if he was doing the right thing by keeping the man here instead of taking him to the police, but his thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that Descole was stirring.

Descole groaned, his eyes blinking open. His mind felt fuzzy, and he struggled to get a grasp on what had happened to him. He slowly recalled his game for Eternal Life, his attempts to unearth the ancient ruins under the island, his subsequent failure, and then Layton's success and their fight, which had ended with him falling… If he weren't still so out of it, he would have been fuming.

As Descole looked around the room, trying to collect himself, he realized that his surrounding weren't familiar. His own room was bigger and grander than this one, which was tiny and…quaint? Yes, quaint. It was not his style, but he couldn't deny that it had a certain amount of charm to it.

"Descole…" The voice saying his name behind him was familiar, but it was not that of his faithful butler Raymond. His eyes narrowed as realization hit him. Turning his head, he confirmed that it was Layton who had spoken to him and was now looking at him with something he didn't even want to place, though he couldn't help thinking it looked irritatingly like concern. .

"_You!_" The rage he'd been unable to focus on earlier suddenly exploded within him, and he shot upwards, ready to attack the man who repeatedly interfered with his plans. Before he could say anything more though, the world started to spin, and he fell back onto the bed, groaning.

Layton was instantly up and hovering over him. "You should calm down, Descole! Even you need to take it easy after a fall like that!"

Descole growled, but did not try and get up again. His head ached from his first attempt, and even he knew he needed to rest for a moment. If only Layton would stop talking…

"Honestly," he started in that disapproving, know-it-all tone of his. "I don't know why you insist on pulling such stunts. You not only nearly killed all of us, but yourself as well! What could you possibly hope to accomplish that's worth sacrificing so many lives, including your own?"

"I don't expect someone like _you_ to understand my actions, Layton." Descole replied through gritted teeth. He _really_ wished the man would just shut up, especially since he was not yet up to shutting him up with his own two hands. "Besides, I'm fine."

"This time. But next time…"

"Next time I will succeed, so it won't even be an issue!" Descole snapped.

Professor Layton sighed at his refusal to even consider the possibility that he might fail. "Like the last two times?"

This comment was a mistake, and Layton realized as much the minute he said it. Though Descole did not respond, he could feel the waves of anger radiating off of the man. One thing he had learned about him from their two past encounters, was that Descole hated to lose. And even more, he hated to lose to Layton. Reminding him that he had-not just once, but twice-was definitely not a good idea.

Layton opened his mouth to apologize, only for a startled cry to come out of it as he just barely dodged Descole's sword, which hit the chair instead and nearly broke it in two. He had not wanted to leave Descole's sword behind, but he now regretted placing it so close to the bed. Having apparently recovered enough to fight, the man leapt off the mattress and swung at him again and again, with the professor dodging his blows each time. His rage and his injuries were making his attacks a lot less effective than they would normally be, but due to the small space they were in, avoiding them was getting harder and harder.

The professor knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer, and he was less than thrilled at the sight of all his furniture being damaged or destroyed. Finally, Descole lunged at him and sent his top hat flying to the ground. This was enough to motivate Layton into taking more aggressive action.

"That's enough!" he said firmly, darting forward and catching Descole off-guard. The man stumbled back in surprise, his legs hitting into the bed. Layton used this to his advantage and grabbed the man's wrists as he ran at him. The sword clattered to the ground as he used all his weight to push Descole back onto the bed and pin him there. In an attempt to stop him from breaking free, he sat on top of him and used all his strength to keep his wrists up by his head.

Cheeks reddening with anger and more than a little embarrassment, Descole thrashed wildly. He knew he was stronger than the professor, but their awkward position did not make escaping any easier. Not to mention that all that fighting had left him more tired than he'd care to admit, and he was more aware than ever of the bruises Layton had mentioned earlier.

"Let me go at once!" he demanded.

"You are behaving like a child!" Layton scolded, refusing to yield even a little. "I'm not going to release you until you stop acting so recklessly, especially when you are in someone else's home!" In reality, it was taking a lot of effort to keep the struggling man pinned down, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. He hoped that his words sank in before his strength gave out.

"I never wanted to be in your home in the first place!" Descole panted, attempting to twist out of Layton's grasp. Well, so much for that. "Why did you even bring me here?**!**"

"Because I was concerned about you!"

"I don't need your concern!" Descole hissed. Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but he could feel a strange stirring below his waist, and he didn't like it. And the more he struggled, the worse it got, which only made him all the more desperate to get free and as far away from the professor as he could get.

Layton pressed down harder as Descole's struggles got more desperate. In all honesty, he was beginning to think attempting to help him _had_ been a mistake. But it was a bit late to back out now, wasn't it? "I'm not letting you go until you've calmed down. You're too worked up right now, and I'm all too familiar with the damage you cause when you're in that state." He looked around at what was left of his bedroom.

"I'm perfectly calm!" Descole raged, continuing to struggle futilely. "And I'm more than capable of controlling myself!"

"Forgive me if I don't exactly believe you. Experience has shown me otherwise." The professor was really wishing the other man would stop moving and just relax. He was getting tired, and his arms were starting to hurt. On top of that, he was starting to feel a little…uncomfortable, sitting as he was. He squirmed around a bit, trying to relieve the pressure he felt.

Descole stiffened under him and started gasping for breath. He let out a strange noise, which almost sounded like a whimper.

Layton stopped moving and leaned forward a bit. "Descole, what's wrong? Are you alright?" He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, but he forced himself to ignore it.

The professor was almost knocked off when Descole suddenly started struggling again. "Get off of me, Layton!" He spoke more loudly than he had before. The self-proclaimed scientist was not a stupid man, and he had figured out and was all too aware of what was wrong with him…and he was less than thrilled. In fact, he was more freaked out and desperate to get away from Layton, before his "problem" got worse or the other man noticed it. And given that said professor was sitting on top of the affected area, both were bound to happen before long.

"Be quiet!" Layton hissed, now panting himself. "You'll wake Luke up!" He really didn't want to get his over-eager young apprentice involved in this. As it was, he was already feeling guilty for putting him in danger earlier, and he was dreading having to tell his parents about it.

"Get off! Get off! Get off!" Descole was practically throwing a fit now, tossing his head from side-to-side as he desperately tried to free himself. Every so often he would stop, gasping, and just squirm against the mattress, as if trying to disappear into it.

"H-hold still!" Layton wheezed. The weird feeling in his stomach seemed to get stronger the more Descole struggled. He looked down at Descole's face through half-lidded eyes and found that, even in the darkness, it was a noticeable shade of red that could not just be chalked up to the effort he was putting into trying to break away. Even with that mask on, the professor could see the desperation in it, and as the other man twisted his lower-half, Layton suddenly became aware of something hard pressing against him.

That was when it clicked, and the heat in his cheeks seemed to spread across his entire face. "O-oh, y-you're…" he could only stutter as he realized what he had inadvertently caused and was now experiencing himself as a result. "M-my apologies…"

If Descole's face could get any redder, he was sure it would have. "Just get _off_ of me!"

"I-I…" Layton wanted to comply-knew that he _should_ comply,-but he couldn't. The more Descole struggled, the worse his own "problem" got, and it made it difficult for him to even _think_ of moving. "Can you just hold still for a moment?**!**" he finally cried, his voice strained.

Descole's body continued writhing underneath him, and he refused to look at Layton. He didn't respond, unable to do more than just gasp as he continued to try and gain release-in more ways than he himself was aware of.

"Y-you have to…" Layton tried to repeat his plea, only to be interrupted before he could get it all out.

"Professor?"

The sound of Luke's voice calling out from beyond the bedroom door was enough to make both men go still, the room silent aside from their heavy breathing.

"Y-yes, Luke?" he managed to get out, trying to keep his voice steady. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I had a bad dream, so I went to get some water." came his reply. "But then I heard all the noise coming from your room and thought something was wrong."

"I-it's just the TV, my boy. I'll turn it down." As Layton wondered just how much Luke had heard, he instructed him to go back to sleep. "A gentleman needs his rest, after all."

Beneath him, Descole muttered something about a gentleman not molesting his guests, which caused Layton's face to go red. He quickly shushed the other man, which earned him what he was sure was a glare, though it was impossible to tell through that mask.

"What was that, Professor?"

As Descole smirked, Layton got more embarrassed. "N-nothing, Luke. Go back to bed."

"Okay." There was a faint yawn. "'Night, Professor."

Both men listened as Luke walked down the hall. The professor breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of his footsteps faded away, only for him to be jolted back to the current situation as Descole immediately started struggling again. He was unprepared for it and almost lost his grip on the other man, only to push him back down roughly just in time.

The scolding he had prepared got caught in his throat as Descole let out what he was sure was an unintended moan. "D-Descole…"

Clearly embarrassed, Descole started thrashing as violently as he could. "Shut _up_, Layton!" he shouted. "Just shut up and get off of me already!"

"Descole, you have to be quiet." Layton glanced toward the door, certain Luke was not yet back to sleep and would come to see what the noise was a second time if this kept up. "Luke will-"

"Do you honestly think I _care_?" Descole was clearly furious at their current predicament, especially since Layton was still refusing to get off of him and making things so much worse. "I swear, if you don't release me right now-"

"_Be quiet!"_ Layton hissed, interrupting him. He saw Descole clench his teeth in anger and knew he'd said the wrong thing again.

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child!" Descole raged. "You're the one who got us into this mess! You had no right to bring me here and start scolding me, especially after you stole what was rightfully mine! And then you have the _nerve_ to hold me down against my will and start demanding I behave in a way that pleases you?**!**"

Layton listened to him rant in shock, unable to believe how ludicrous his words were. This was all his fault, when all he'd tried to do was help Descole? And who was it that had start tearing the place up with a sword, trying to kill him? Then there was their current situation, which he admitted was partially his fault, but Descole was still twisting the facts around…

But he knew it would be pointless to try and argue with the man, and the more he tried, the more likely it was that Luke would overhear. As it was, Descole was getting louder with each word he spoke, and as heavy a sleeper as the boy was, even he was going to wake up sooner or later if this continued-assuming he'd even managed to get back to sleep in the first place. He had to do something to quiet him and fast.

"I don't want or need your advice," Descole continued, unaware that the professor had stopped listening completely. "So kindly get off, before I-"

Layton gulped away the last of his reservations and crushed his lips against Descole's, effectively stunning him into silence. He was certain that the other man's eyes were wide as saucers behind that mask, and his whole body had gone still. If his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, the professor would have asked if he were okay.

It took a moment for Descole to realize what had just happened, and once he did, he immediately started squirming and trying to protest, though all that came out were muffled noises. Layton was now almost entirely on top of him-still pinning his wrists to the bed,-and that only made it worse.

Meanwhile, Layton knew his plan to keep Descole quiet was far from a perfect one. Using his own body to hold down the other man's was helping, but Descole was still putting up quite a fight, and his own desires were draining his energy. He knew Descole was stronger than him, and if he wasn't careful, the man would surely turn the tables the minute he let his guard down. That was the last thing he wanted, though he had to acknowledge that the reason why had changed from when this had all started.

"Mmph!" Descole made indignant noises that were no doubt him attempting to verbally-assault Layton. He was putting all his strength into trying to escape from the other man's grasp, while also futilely trying to turn his head and free his lips from Layton's.

As his "rival" struggled desperately, the professor couldn't help but feel guilty at what he was doing. Were he able, he would have apologized over and over for his actions, though he was sure Descole would never accept. And then there was his feeling of regret over what he had already decided to do next, having realized that he was fighting a losing battle.

Taking advantage of Descole's open mouth, Layton closed his eyes and thrust his tongue inside. The man beneath him let out a squeak of surprise and went still again for a brief moment-during which Layton was surprised he was not bitten,-before the struggling began anew. Pushing down all his guilt, Layton continued to deepen the kiss.

Descole's tongue met and wrestled with his own, though Layton was sure this was purely instinct on the other man's part and not intentional. He could feel Descole's resistance weakening as his muffled protests ceased and he moaned into the kiss.

When they finally parted, breathless, Descole was no longer struggling at all. Layton raised himself back up to his original position, surveying the man under him through lust-clouded eyes. His mind was beginning to feel hazy, and by the way Descole was panting, he wasn't much better off. There was no sign of his usual arrogance. Instead, he looked completely and utterly helpless.

Layton could feel his accursed guilt returning as he stared down at the desperate mess he'd caused his rival to become. Some gentleman he was. What had he been thinking? Their original predicament had been an accident, but kissing him like that… How could he do something like that without the other's consent? Descole would hate him even more, and for once, he couldn't say he didn't deserve it. But even as he thought these things, the warmth in his lower regions threatened to overpower him, and he longed to kiss the other man again.

_We have to stop this… _The professor knew he had to ignore these feelings. Descole was no longer throwing a tantrum, so he could no longer justify keeping him pinned this way. He had to let him go...no matter how much he didn't want to.

"L-Layton…" Descole's voice came out as a whimper as he squirmed briefly beneath his rival. The professor knew he should have taken this moment to release him, but the other man threw his head back into the pillow as he desperately gasped for breath, showing off his neck. It looked so…_inviting_.

Before he could stop himself, Layton leaned down and found his lips latching onto the exposed area. He registered the desperate cry that escaped from the other man as he did so, but was unable to do anything about it as he sucked at his neck. This earned him more delicious noises, but he felt another pang of guilt over how much he enjoyed them.

Sparing a glance at Descole's face, Layton saw that he was still a deep shade of scarlet, his breath coming in quick, short huffs. Suddenly aware of how hot it was in the room, Layton briefly released Descole's wrists to shrug off his coat, his mouth never once leaving the other man's neck. He unbuttoned Descole's jacket next, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor with his own.

Now that they were free, Layton couldn't stop his hands from running all over Descole's upper-half, causing the man to pant even harder. His pants turned to soft cries as the professor's fingers slipped under his shirt, finally touching flesh.

As he breathed shakily, trying to keep at least some control over his actions, Layton slid his long, musical fingers upwards. For someone so thin, Descole was surprisingly fit, he couldn't help thinking, as he traced over his lithe muscles, playing the other man like a song.

Layton continued sliding his fingers upwards, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks on his rival's chest. Descole let out another cry, which trailed off into a series of high-pitched whimpers as the other man rubbed them between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. His cries subsided the minute the professor stopped, but he continued writhing on the bed for a moment longer before going still.

The professor's hands continued moving, as if they had a mind of their own. They slipped out from under Descole's shirt-prompting a soft groan-and immediately started unbuttoning it. Layton then quickly pushed the fabric aside and lowered his head, mouth closing around one of the buds he'd brought to hardness seconds earlier. As he sucked, he brought his hand up to toy with the other.

Descole whined, his own hands clutching at the bed sheets. After a few more moments of this torture, he thrust upwards as much as he could with Layton on top of him, causing the other man to release him with a surprised gasp. He had almost forgotten about his own "problem".

Layton let his head rest against Descole's as he tried to regain his breath. He tried to focus on what had just happened and what he should do next, but his thoughts were swimming. The more he tried to think about it, the more hesitant he found himself becoming, until he was brought back to reality by Descole's hands tugging roughly at his shirt, seemingly trying to tear it off.

Something about this made him chuckle, and he saw a familiar, indignant look flash over Descole's face, making him look like a pouting child. He bit back another laugh, sitting up and yanking his shirt over his head, throwing it onto the floor with his hat and jacket. Descole whimpered at the sudden loss of contact between the two of them, and Layton found that he missed it too, even though it had barely been more than a second.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Layton found himself wrapping his fingers around Descole's tie, which had gotten pushed aside earlier when he had unbuttoned his shirt. He used it to pull the other man up and kiss him, their bare chests pressed together. A pleasant feeling of warmth washed over Layton as he felt Descole's arms wrap around him, their kiss deepening.

They parted far too quickly for Layton's tastes-the tie tossed to the floor with the other clothes,-but the need to breathe was far more pressing. Descole was gasping quietly, refusing to make eye contact with him, and Layton worried if he was just embarrassed or ashamed.

"Descole?" he asked, guilt returning yet again.

His rival replied with a whimper, still refusing to look at him. He squirmed around a bit, causing their erections to rub against one another. His panting increased in volume, as he started desperately grinding down against the other man, clawing at his back. Judging by his actions and the flush spreading across his cheeks, he was clearly beyond caring about anything other than what they were doing right now.

The sight of Descole so desperate and needy was nearly enough to make Layton lose it right then and there, and the way the other man was rubbing against him was hardly helping. There was still a sliver of hesitance in him, though, as he had not done anything like this since Claire had died nearly eight years ago, and the two of them were not exactly the best of friends. How could he have done this and how could he possibly do any more? What would happen after it was all over? Descole might want this now, but what about when he was no longer overpowered by lust? He couldn't imagine he'd be happy about what they had done. How could he ever face the other man after taking advantage of him in this way?

As doubt wracked his mind, a single word destroyed that train of thought completely.

"P-please…"

Surprised, Layton looked down at Descole, whose head was resting against his chest. The man was still not looking at him, but it was clear he was on the verge of losing it himself. "…Descole?"

His rival did not respond, but his grip on Layton tightened, and he rubbed against him with more fervor. Descole was clearly much farther gone than Layton, and at the moment, the most coherency the professor would get out of him were desperate moans, whimpers, and cries.

Placing his hands on Descole's shoulders, Layton gently separated himself from the man and laid him back on the bed. He couldn't help smiling as Descole tried to continue thrusting up against him, though he was just out of reach. Taking pity on him, Layton finally took the initiative and again sat so their arousals were pressed firmly together, though this left the other unable to move against him at all.

Descole moaned. Desperate for friction, his body shook, and he grabbed at the professor's arms on either side of his waist.

"L-L-Layton…" he finally managed to get out, his voice strained with need. If he wanted to say more, it was cut off by a whimper.

Relishing in the sound of the other man saying his name, the professor started moving against him, agonizingly slow. He held the other man down, not letting him increase the pace on his own. Descole panted, but it was clear from the way he gripped his rival's wrists that he wanted-no, _needed_-more. Layton himself craved it, but he didn't want this to end, and he knew he wouldn't last longer after having spent so many years without even so much as pleasuring himself.

Tossing his head from side-to-side, Descole desperately tried to move to no avail. "Please, L-Layton… I-I can't…"

A true gentleman doesn't tease, for very long anyway. The professor finally started rubbing against him in earnest, releasing his grip on the other man's waist. Descole cried out as he frantically moved with him, the pleasure building within him until he thought he would burst.

And then Layton stopped, moving off him.

Descole whined pitiably. If he were more capable of coherent thought, he would have feared that the other man's conscience had finally caught up with him, which would have surely been enough to drive him to tears at that point. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this torture. If Layton didn't continue…

Heart breaking a little at the anxious whimpers that Descole let out, the professor firmly held him down with one hand and gently started petting the bulge in his pants with the other, almost as if trying to soothe him. Given how much he enjoyed the high-pitched whines the other man was letting out at his too-light touches, he figured that maybe a gentleman didn't mind putting his own needs above another's just a little bit, despite what he'd always told Luke.

Still, even as he thought that, Layton found his hand picking up speed. It would be cruel to tease Descole for too long. He didn't know how much time had passed since this had started, but he knew that he himself was close to the edge. Since Descole was the one who had been on the receiving end of all his ministrations-intentional and unintentional,- it was obvious that he couldn't hold out much longer.

As Layton kneaded and groped the other man through his pants, he felt his own arousal growing rapidly. Descole was moaning over and over, and even through his own lust, the professor couldn't stop looking at his face. He longed to tear that mask off, see the desperate, glazed look in his eyes. And if he were able to get closer, he would have surely kissed that adorable mouth, which was open just enough to let him cry and gasp with pleasure. But with the state they were both in, he was pretty sure they would suffocate in a matter of seconds.

Deciding to kick it up a notch, Layton deftly slid his hand into the other man's pants, so that there was only a thin layer of fabric separating him from his throbbing erection. He then resumed his ministrations, allowing the man to arch into his touch this time.

Descole's cries grew louder "O-oh, god, yes!"

After a few moments of this, the scientist's cries quieted into wordless screams. His hands gripped the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Layton took this as a sign he was about to go over the edge and stopped, making quick work of the rest of the man's clothes.

His own blush deepened, and he found that he could not look as he took Descole's length into his hand and started stroking it.

"Nnngh! L-Layton!" Descole moaned incoherently, desperately thrusting into his rival's hand. Even if he could manage to form them, words couldn't describe how good it felt to finally feel the other man touching him this way. And yet, he still wanted more.

It took a while, but Descole finally managed to find Layton's leg. Grasping his pants, he pulled at them weakly, wanting them _off_. Layton got the message, and with some slight reservations, he released the other man and quickly took off the rest of his own clothes.

Layton crawled up and once again pressed his lips to Descole's. He could feel his cheeks burning, but he quickly lost himself in the kiss. Who would have thought his rival's lips against his own would feel so good?

The professor pulled the other man closer, smiling against his lips as their arms wrapped around one another. They continued kissing for what seemed like ages, both moaning in ecstasy, and neither wanting to part.

The kiss broke suddenly, when their bare erections brushed together, causing both to cry out. They quickly found themselves rocking against one another-slowly, at first,-with their pace steadily increasing and their moans getting louder as they both got more and more desperate. Neither could get enough of the delicious friction, and unable to focus on anything else, they clung to one another as they got closer and closer...

Layton wanted to draw it out, to enjoy this moment with Descole for just a little longer, but he knew he couldn't. He was too far gone now to move away or even _think_ about slowing down, and he was still clinging to Descole as tightly as the other man was clinging to him. That, and the rapidly-increasing sensation where they were rubbing together, smashed the last doubt in his mind.

They would be finishing this now.

Finally, the pleasure that had been building for what seemed like an eternity became too much, and they came crashing over the edge together-Layton with a loud gasp and Descole with a with surprisingly-feminine cry.

And then it was over. The two lay wrapped in eachother's arms, breathing heavily as they came down from their high. They both felt uneasy at the silence that eventually followed, as the haze of lust finally cleared, but neither said anything. The realization of what had just happened creeped up on both men, leaving them unsure what to say and somewhat afraid that anything they _did_ say would just make things more awkward.

"D-Descole..." Layton finally broke the disconcerting silence, breathing the other's name softly from his lips. He trailed off, seemingly wanting to say more, but clearly at a loss for words, given the recent events.

Descole didn't respond, instead looking away almost shyly, with a faint blush still coloring his cheeks. Layton found himself thinking about what had just unfolded, no longer able to distract himself. He had gone from taking his self-appointed rival in out of the kindness of his heart to engaging in most ungentlemanly acts with him, and now that it was over, he couldn't help but feel the guilt he had previously and repeatedly shoved away returning full-force.

The professor had caused the other man to become aroused against his will, filling him with a need for something he didn't really want. And then he had lost himself in his own desires, doing things that only made Descole that much more desperate. Sure, in the end, he had gone on only because the other had begged him, but he couldn't deny that this was all his own doing. He should have stopped it long ago, as good as it had felt, before it ever got this far. It occurred to him that he should apologize, but he couldn't seem to get the words out, and instead, he just stuttered various beginnings awkwardly.

Layton eventually gave up, sighing. The most he could do was look apologetic and avoid trying to make eye contact, since Descole was still doing his best to avoid looking at him. After using what little of the bedcover was actually left on the bed to clean up the mess between them, he reluctantly started to move away, wincing almost in pain at the sudden chill as their bodies parted.

Descole's fingers dug into his back instinctively, as if willing him to stay. They stopped almost immediately, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. It was brief, but Layton thought he saw his own pain reflected on the other man's face for a moment.

This made him stop, conflicted. His brain was suddenly wracked with arguments for and against what he did next, with the former eventually winning out.

Layton moved to lie on his side next to Descole, this time pulling the other man with him gently, in case he wanted to refuse. After what seemed to be a moment's hesitation, his rival followed him, head coming to rest on his chest. He was still not making eye contact, but the professor found that he didn't mind. Smiling to himself, he tightened his grip, enjoying the feeling of the other man against him, before they both drifted off into the most peaceful sleep either of them had had in a long time.

* * *

It was just starting to get light out when Descole awoke. He felt surprisingly relaxed, and it took him a few moments to realize where he was, who he was with, and what had happened last night. Though he instinctively wanted to jump out of the bed and away from Layton, he didn't. He just felt so…comfortable.

The mere thought embarrassed him, especially since he was currently naked and wrapped in the arms of the man he had named as his sworn enemy-the man he had just…

Descole couldn't think about what had happened between them. Not now, and maybe not ever. He didn't regret it, though he felt as though he probably should, and yet he didn't know how to deal with it. The sooner he left, the better. He certainly couldn't stay. It wasn't just the fear of an awkward confrontation once the other man woke up. He was a criminal, and Layton was…

He just didn't know anymore.

As carefully as he could manage, Descole freed himself from the other man's embrace and got off of the bed. He felt cold, and somehow putting his clothes on did not make him feel any warmer. It just wasn't the same.

As he prepared to put his cloak on, Descole found himself staring down at Layton, who was apparently a very deep sleeper. He was shivering slightly, and knowing that his own absence was probably the reason, Descole felt that he couldn't just leave him like that. He'd pretend that was the only reason he cared about the other's comfort, as if it had nothing to do with the memories of the previous night that he was trying so hard to ignore before they made him do something stupid-like stay.

With most of the bedding on the floor and him not willing to stick around long enough to search for something else, Descole found himself draping his own cloak over the sleeping professor. He had plenty of spares at home, after all. His gaze lingered on his rival's unconscious form a little longer than he would have liked, before he quickly turned away.

Descole needed to get out of there. He knew the front door wasn't a good idea-since he had no idea where it was and would risk running into Layton's annoying apprentice or being seen by somebody,-so he settled for opening the window. They were on the second floor, as he'd assumed. Such a jump might be too much for some people, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

With one last glance at Layton, he climbed out the window and leapt down to the sidewalk below, landing on his feet. He was surprised to find his carriage waiting there for him, with his loyal butler Raymond already opening the door. The man must have followed him here, though he wondered exactly how long he had been waiting. It crossed his mind to ask, but he ultimately entered the carriage without a word.

Raymond did not say anything either-did not ask him any of the questions he had feared, knowing he wasn't ready to answer them. Even so, as he passed by him in silence, he was certain that the other knew. He couldn't explain how, but Descole couldn't shake the feeling that his ever-faithful servant knew what had happened between him and Layton last night, if only vaguely.

As the carriage started off down the street, Descole found himself staring almost wistfully at the open window as it disappeared into the distance.

_Until we meet again, Layton…_

* * *

A few hours later, Professor Layton had awoken, alone. He had almost thought it had all been a dream, but then, he knew he did not sleep naked. Sitting up, he then noted the mess on the floor and realized that Descole's cloak was draped over him.

Though he felt a strange ache inside at the other man's absence, he couldn't help smiling as he pulled the cloak tighter around himself.

Honestly, he would have preferred to stay like that a little longer, but he remembered that Luke was over and would probably be up soon. In a matter of minutes, he managed to get himself cleaned up, got dressed, and even tidied the room. He was already in the kitchen making breakfast by the time Luke came downstairs.

"Good morning, Professor." the boy said with a yawn.

Layton flashed him his best smile. "Good morning, my boy."

As Luke sat down at the table, his mentor started serving the food. "Hey, are you okay, Professor?"

Turning away from him to clean up the counter, the man replied, "Of course. Why do you ask?"

He could practically _hear_ Luke frowning behind him. "I don't know. You just seem a little…sad."

"Nonsense, my boy." The professor had been smiling the whole time, but he was sure his eyes gave away the slight sorrow he was feeling. Last night had been… He was sad that it was over and wondered if he would ever experience anything like that again. It seemed inevitable that he would eventually run into Descole again, but he somehow couldn't imagine the other man acknowledging what happened between them when they did. He was far too prideful, though something about that fact made his smile become a little more sincere, as it brought back memories from last night...

"Professor?"

Not realizing how long he'd been standing there, lost in thought, Layton joined his apprentice at the table. "I'm perfectly fine, Luke." he said with what he hoped was a more-convincing smile.

"Okay…" They ate in silence for a few moments, before the boy spoke again. "Hey, Professor?"

"Yes, Luke?"

"What exactly were you watching last night?"

The professor choked on his tea, coughing violently. He quickly recovered and tried to retain his composure. "W-what do you mean?"

Luke looked thoughtful. "Well, you said you were watching TV. There were so many loud noises coming from you room, it took me forever to get back to sleep."

Layton could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "It…It was a good program." _A _very_ good program, _his mind added, causing him to mentally scold himself.

"Oh." Luke seemed to accept this, and they went back to eating, much to the professor's relief. Unfortunately, the moment didn't last.

"Professor?"

"Y-yes, Luke?"

"Can I watch next time?"


End file.
